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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322014">Anyone but Who You Are</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdr_24601/pseuds/mdr_24601'>mdr_24601</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>71st Hunger Games, 74th Hunger Games, Arena (Hunger Games), District 13 (Hunger Games), District 4 (Hunger Games), District 7 (Hunger Games), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, POV Johanna Mason, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quarter Quell (Hunger Games), The Capitol (Hunger Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:33:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdr_24601/pseuds/mdr_24601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some say it was an act. A clever facade worn by a masterful manipulator. Others say it was genuine. That her tears were real, and every sob that wracked her small frame displayed her true terror. </p>
<p>Perhaps it's neither. Perhaps it's both. </p>
<p>Johanna's still deciding.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annie Cresta &amp; Annie and Finnick's Son, Annie Cresta &amp; Johanna Mason, Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason &amp; Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen &amp; Johanna Mason, Victors &amp; Victors (Hunger Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Anyone but Who You Are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Her fingers clench tightly around the ribbon, refusing to let go. It should be in her hair. But Johanna, in a state of panic, untied it and let her hair hang loose around her shoulders. It’s better to hold, anyway. The ribbon belonged to her mother, before she passed away when Johanna was nine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The breeze blows her long hair into her eyes, and she lets out a small huff of annoyance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lets an abrupt laugh escape her lips. How stupid, how frivolous, it is to be worrying about something like her hair. It’s not like anyone will be watching her. All eyes will be on the tributes, the unlucky boy and girl who’ll be shipped off to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. District Seven doesn’t win often, but they don’t have a bad track record when it comes to victors. Nothing like Twelve’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna squints as the sunlight sears her eyes. She wants to look forward to the section that holds the thirteen-year-old girls. Her sister is all alone in there. Perhaps she should have let Aspen have the ribbon. Something to hold, to soothe her nerves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not like it matters much now. The tributes’ names are about to be announced. No hair ribbon or token of any kind can protect anyone from the reaping. The girl’s name is called and it takes Johanna a moment to realize why heads turn her way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fingers remain curled tightly around the ribbon for the rest of the ceremony. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Congratulations to the both of you,” the escort says chirpily, sending a cautious glance to Johanna. Her display of utter terror on the reaping stage would have been almost comical if it were anyone else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mentor is an older man named Blight, who won the Games close to forty years ago. He only frowns when he sees her and Johanna knows why. Looking a dead girl in the face couldn’t have been easy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now’s a good time to talk strategy,” Blight says, being careful to look both at her and her district partner, Grove. He’s fourteen and still in the awkward stage of adolescence. Not bad looking, but he’s no Finnick Odair, either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s safe to say that Seven’s chances are low this year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blight goes on to talk about weapons and survival but Johanna pays him little attention. He won his Games by hiding, anyway, so it’s not like he’s the expert on how to best bludgeon someone to death. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grove and the escort both leave until it’s only her and Blight at the table. She’s about to leave as well before Blight speaks up again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Johanna, I think we can work with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna pauses in her steps. Dry laughter builds in her throat and she doesn’t stop it. “Didn’t you see the reaping? I’m pathetic, in case you haven’t heard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we can use that to our advantage.” Blight calmly spreads jam on a scone and invites her to sit back down. “Listen, the Games have been boring for a while. Remember last year?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could recall the 70th Hunger Games. A flood wiped out five of the Top Eight, handing the victory to District Four’s Annie Cresta. Not a very exciting year in terms of fighting, though. Or victors, for that matter. Annie Cresta hasn’t been seen since her Victory Tour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does this have to do with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blight sighs. “They want something exciting. The Capitol wants a show. They love an underdog.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Okay, and you want me to be that underdog? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I am just that pathetic?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives her a knowing smile. “If you were pathetic, you wouldn’t be considering my strategy. Want a scone?” He stretches out his hand to offer her a scone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes it.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Johanna stumbles her way through training and her private session with the Gamemakers. Watching the Careers expertly throw knives and battle with swords sets her on edge. Usually, she would hide her discomfort. This time, though, she wears her anxiety like a second skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The axes stay untouched. Johanna Mason, resident of District Seven, can wield an axe better than any girl she knows. But Johanna Mason, terrified female tribute, has never held one in her life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time the interviews come around, Johanna’s convinced that half of Panem can barely recall her name. Caesar Flickerman tries to coax conversation out of her, but she’s hidden behind her curtain of dark hair, quiet as a mouse. The audience claps half-heartedly, because nobody cares much for a weak tribute with a training score of three. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, she’s not a threat at all. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Her ribbon is tied around her ponytail when she enters the arena. It’s her district token. She would have tied it around her wrist but she needs something to hold her long hair back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tube rises into the arena and Johanna is blinded by the sun for a moment, waiting a breathless second for her eyes to adjust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s hoping for a forest, but all she can see are wide, expansive mountain ranges. There are trees up there, though. Perhaps she can make it, if she moves quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the starting gong sounds and the bloodbath begins, Johanna runs the opposite direction. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The Careers find her a week later. One of them holds an axe and Johanna instinctively wants to grab it, but refrains. She only has to play the scared little girl for a moment longer. They circle her but the one with the axe leans too close and she wrestles it out of her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a moment that will be shown in Hunger Games reruns. The weakest tribute, the underdog, takes an axe and slices everyone open within a matter of minutes. The Capitol enjoys it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna can still hear the screams, still feel the blood under her fingernails, and she wonders if she’ll ever be clean again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they all lay in puddles of crimson on the earth, she takes a dagger from one of the bodies. People will argue about this moment for years to come; why take the knife when she already had the axe?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Johanna only raises the knife to her head and begins to cut off her hair, right above where the ribbon holds it up. Her hair falls to her chin in choppy tendrils. The rest of it falls on the ground without making a noise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pockets the knife and walks away, leaving the long strands of dark hair lying haphazardly near the bodies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna doesn’t go back for the ribbon. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>It’s a week later when the president comes to visit her. He is cordial and cold, and Johanna wants to spit in his face. He outlines her responsibilities as a victor in disgusting detail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You put on quite a show, Miss Mason,” he smiles, his puffy lips stretching into an unsettling smile that makes bile rise in her throat. “The people of the Capitol would like to get to know you better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If she were younger, she would have obliged, because what’s the harm in meeting some people? But she’s sixteen and feels a hundred and she’s seen more, knows better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna punches him in the mouth. Blood dribbles lazily down his chin and he doesn’t wipe it away, only sits there and watches her. He smiles again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll regret that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what he means by that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But by the time she returns home to attend her sister’s funeral, the meaning is perfectly clear.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The Victory Tour is a reprieve and hell at the same time. It’s weeks away from the wary looks of the people of Seven, who don’t know how to act around her anymore. Weeks away from the quiet, suspicious glances from her father, who no longer trusts her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re home,” he had said. “But I just need some time to adjust.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently, </span>
  <em>
    <span>time </span>
  </em>
  <span>was indefinite, because a few weeks turned into five months and still no more than polite greetings and small talk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So the Victory Tour can’t be all that bad, Johanna thinks, because at least it’s not the bitter loneliness of Seven. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s back to the Capitol, to the place that ripped her apart and spit her back out, only she wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same after the arena. Nothing will be the same again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They grab and they touch and they take what doesn’t belong to them. Johanna wants to push their hands away. Her fingers itch for an axe, or a weapon of any kind, really. Something to keep them from prying any more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She has the pleasure of meeting Finnick Odair, all green eyes and tan skin and shiny hair. He smiles his trademark smile and Johanna snarls at him. For some reason, this only makes him smile wider. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls her away to a secluded balcony during her Victory Party. His fingers dig into her arm and she’s reminded of the Capitol people doing the same only moments before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” She hisses, rubbing her arm and glaring. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finnick’s eyes scan their surroundings before he answers. “Checking for bugs. Have you gotten that lecture yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna nods because she can remember Blight explaining to her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Capitol has eyes and ears everywhere, Johanna. Be careful what you say, and always assume someone’s listening. If you need to talk, go somewhere outside. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Blight filled me in. That doesn’t answer my question. Why did you drag me out here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haymitch sent me to see how you were adjusting,” Finnick says, eyeing her carefully. “With being a victor and...everything else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels her fists clench at her sides as her eyes narrow. “Why does he care?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re one of us now, Johanna. And victors look out for each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna frowns but Finnick stays there with her. He presses a drink into her hand with a sad smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It gets easier over time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Based on the tired look in Finnick’s eyes and how easily his smile slips away, Johanna’s not so sure that’s true, but she takes the drink anyway. A little alcohol can’t hurt, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finnick walks her back into the party and she feels like she may have found her first ally. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Johanna’s been a lot of people. A normal resident of Seven, braiding ribbons into her sister’s hair. A scared tribute, slicing other children with such ferocity that it’s like she was born to do nothing else. A victor, performing for the Capitol with her tight dresses and extravagant heels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Any victor can relate to the sentiment. Finnick pretends to be happy in the Capitol so his Annie can stay safe at home. The Career victors of One and Two smile and publicly adore the Games. Really, she fits right in the tight knit community of people who lie for a living. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Johanna.” Haymitch slides up behind her, a glass of alcohol in hand. It’s not uncommon for victors to mingle during the Tribute Parade, but Haymitch is one of the last people she’d think of talking to for fun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haymitch,” she greets back, masking her initial confusion. “Had enough to drink yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only laughs and takes a swig of his drink. Ignoring her question, he asks, “Have you seen my kids this year?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, why would I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He points in the direction of the upcoming Twelve chariot. “Might want to look.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns to see light radiating from Twelve’s tributes. They’re on fire, she realizes a moment later. “Damn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Haymitch chuckles softly. “Yeah. Hey, Odair’s coming over here. I’ll leave you two alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna rolls her eyes but smiles slightly when Finnick saunters up to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sugar cube?” he asks, offering her one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s disgusting, Finnick,” she says. He smiles and pops one into his mouth, licking his lips seductively. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t I just come to say hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she responds, without adding further commentary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finnick hums softly in acknowledgement. “Well, it’s been a year since we’ve seen each other last. How about we meet up once this is over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s about to shake her head and decline, but sees something serious in his eyes. “Fine,” Johanna says slowly. “Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” Finnick says with a casual smile. Grabbing another sugar cube, he asks, “Training Center roof work for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives her one more smile before he departs. “Great. See you there.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>It’s Finnick who introduces her to the rebel plan. The Star-Crossed lovers move the nation with their berry act and Finnick pulls her aside after their final interview.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn it, Odair,” she heaves a sigh after his explanation. “What’re you getting us into?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finnick only shrugs. “So, are you in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I’m in. Someone needs to be there to have your back. Victors look out for each other, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles, a genuine one, and pulls her in for a hug. Johanna tenses, because she hasn’t been hugged in a long time, but the tension melts away eventually and she relaxes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you next year, Jo,” Finnick says with a wave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She waves back, before boarding the train back to Seven. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The first thing she does after the Quarter Quell is announced is smash her pristine Capitol plates against her sturdy wooden table. The dishes shatter and it doesn’t help the situation any, but it’s something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second thing she does is go into the forest. There’s no need to spend much time in her house, now that her father’s passed away. It was a few years ago and supposedly no fault of hers. Natural causes, the doctors said, but Johanna still feels the blood on her hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trees surround her on all sides. She wonders if there will be trees like this in the arena. As the only female victor from Seven, she’s going back, for sure. Finnick probably will be joining her, given his popularity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How sad for the Capitol, Johanna thinks as she laughs aloud. They’re losing twenty-three of their beloved victors in one year. Oh, the horror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Katniss and Peeta, the Star-Crossed Lovers, meeting their end in the arena. Or Haymitch, possibly, but it’s less likely. She hopes it isn’t Haymitch. Johanna isn’t sure she could stomach killing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or Finnick, for that matter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can only hope that somebody else deals with her friends before she has to. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The second time Johanna goes into the arena, she brings no district token.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>A hovercraft pulls her out of the arena, but it’s not the right hovercraft. She’s strapped down, but she can lift her head enough to see Peeta Mellark on her other side. She can’t see Katniss anywhere, so technically their rebel plan worked, but that doesn’t change the fact that they left her behind. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>All Johanna can hear, see, feel, is pain. It’s all around her. Screams come from the cell next to hers. Peeta’s cell. They got Annie Cresta, too, because Johanna can hear her cries on her other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then there’s her own pain. Sometimes they play recordings of her own arena. Sometimes they use electrocution, dousing her in water only to electrocute her moments later. She screams a lot, she can tell, because her throat is constantly sore. Blood sticks permanently under her fingernails, where she claws at her restraints, breaking skin in the process. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, she gives them nothing. They’ve taken enough from her already; why should Johanna give them more? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her muscles spasm uncomfortably and she stifles a groan. Maybe one day, they’ll set the voltage too high and end her life altogether. She probably wouldn’t complain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Johanna’s a victor. If she wanted to die, she’d have done so in the arena when she had the chance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she holds on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Johanna,” a female voice floats through the vent on the wall. It’s Annie, her voice raspy from screaming. “Is Finnick dead?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course he’s not dead,” Johanna responds, her voice equally hoarse. “They wouldn’t bother with you if he was, would they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose not,” Annie says softly. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the accommodations here are wonderful. Really, I can’t complain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie laughs and Johanna smiles in return. Her fingers twitch awkwardly, residual effects of the electrocution. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next time they come for her, she spits in their faces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gets a kick to the ribs for her troubles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s still worth it. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>They’re rescued, brought back to Thirteen. Nobody is there to greet her, not like Peeta or Annie. Finnick stops by occasionally, but he’s occupied by his new wife. Johanna can’t blame him. After all the years of pretending, he deserves that, at least. They both do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If somebody were to ask Johanna what she thought she’d be doing a year ago, sharing a compartment in District Thirteen with Katniss Everdeen would not have crossed her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Katniss isn’t so bad, not really. They form a mutual respect for each other in those weeks during training. She gives Johanna a bundle of pine needles and she inhales the scent. For a fleeting moment, she is brought back home. Tears well up in her eyes and she doesn’t try to stop them. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She fails her training exam. They flood the street and her body convulses, and all she can feel is the electricity sending shock waves to her brain. She ends up back in the hospital.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna doesn’t go in the water anymore. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She and Annie keep tabs on the Capitol mission. They watch Finnick and Katniss and Peeta film propos. They’re all annoying, but at least another propo means they’re alive. Annie reaches for her hand and Johanna lets her hold on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Finnick’s death is announced, all she feels is empty. Annie screams and cries and covers her ears, desperate to avoid whatever threat is present in her mind. All Johanna can do is hold her while she trembles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katniss and Peeta make it out, of course. They can make it out but Finnick’s the one who dies. It hardly seems fair, because it isn’t. But life hasn’t been fair for a long time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie’s stomach begins to swell in the coming weeks because apparently Finnick knocked her up before he left. But the baby gives Annie a new sense of purpose, a reason to try, so Johanna supposes she should be grateful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come back to Four with me,” Annie says, resting her hand on her growing stomach. Johanna can feel the baby kick now, and Annie lets her feel it as often as she wants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought of being so close to the water makes her want to throw up but she says, “Okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie gives her a sweet smile and Johanna thinks that, maybe, it’s worth it. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>They make it back to Four before the baby is born. He’s born with the ocean crashing in the distance and Johanna can tell that Annie’s glad for that. He has Finnick’s eyes and Annie calls him Wade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A house with two victors and a newborn baby means that nobody gets much sleep. Johanna doesn’t mind. It’s better than the bitter isolation of her empty house in Seven. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gradually, she gets used to Four. The heat becomes normal and even the ocean waves crashing on the shoreline don’t make her panic like they used to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should go to the beach today,” Annie says one morning over breakfast. “I want Wade to learn to swim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a baby, he can’t even walk yet,” Johanna replies, slightly exasperated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, but I want him around the water.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie’s insistent so Johanna comes along as well. She sits on the beach and watches Annie and Wade splash in the water, sporting matching grins. Annie waves her over. She shakes her head. The thought of going in the water again makes her stomach churn. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Annie takes her hand and leads her gently into the water, so the waves lap at her ankles. Further, so the water comes to her knees, her hips. She’s pale and nearly shaking the whole time, but Annie’s hand is warm and the water is pleasantly cool but not too cold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re doing great,” Annie says gently, smiling. Johanna closes her eyes for a moment, afraid that when she opens them, she’ll be back in her cell in the Capitol. But all she sees is the bright sunlight and Annie’s smile. Her tense shoulders relax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie drops her hand to hold Wade, and they stand there, the three of them. The ocean soaks through her clothes but she can’t bring herself to mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johanna’s been a lot of people. A sister, a daughter. A girl from Seven. A weak tribute, a killer. A victor, a mentor, a prostitute. A rebel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now, though, she’s just Johanna Mason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And for once, she thinks that may be enough.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't usually write in Johanna's point of view, so I hope I captured her voice well. Let me know what you thought. </p>
<p>Thank you for reading. Be sure to leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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